


i think we could do it (if we tried)

by bloominggroves



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beau loves her friends so much you guys, F/F, Fluff, Pining, T+ for mild alcohol use, Truth or Dare, it's legitimately killing me, they.... kiss., title from Sofia by Clairo because I have a Brand(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21511198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominggroves/pseuds/bloominggroves
Summary: “So,” Nott says with an odd air of finality, and takes another drink from the flask. “Who’s going first?” She looks pointedly at Beau, who shuffles backwards until she’s leaning against the wall in a way that clearly says ‘it sure as hell won’t be me.’Or: Truth or Dare, Nott's particular brand of wingmanning, and some incredibly dubious beverages.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 22
Kudos: 233





	i think we could do it (if we tried)

“So,” Nott says with an odd air of finality, and takes another drink from the flask. “Who’s going first?” She looks pointedly at Beau, who shuffles backwards until she’s leaning against the wall in a way that clearly says ‘it sure as hell won’t be me.’ 

“I’ll go!” Jester volunteers, bouncing up and down a little from her position on the bed itself. “I pick truth, obviously. Dares only get fun after a couple of rounds.” She crosses her legs and gestures at Nott to keep talking as she starts rearranging the pillows around her into something vaguely resembling an embroidered, overstuffed nest. 

Nott grins, showing off a mouthful of sharp, crooked teeth, and says “If Nugget and Sprinkle were both about to fall off a cliff or— or get carried off by a giant bird or something, who would you save?” 

Jester’s face scrunches up as she contemplates this, fingers tracing the patterns on one particularly fancy-looking cushion, before she sits up and raises a hand. 

“I’d save Sprinkle. For two reasons,” she says, checking them off on her fingers. “One, Nugget can just teleport back up on his own! Two, I think Sprinkle is basically immortal, and if I let him fall off a cliff he’d _probably_ come back to get revenge on me and it’d be super scary. Except that he’s smaller than my arm, and the worst he could probably do is chew on my journals or something— I’d save Sprinkle. Yasha, truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” Yasha says. Her eyes are closed, her hands folded in front of her, and she looks calmer than she has in months. 

“Okay! If we had to fight any of the things we’ve killed _again,_ which one would you pick?”

Yasha hums and doesn’t open her eyes. Beau sits up a little at that question, and asks, “Would it be the same fight all over again or could it change? I know I’d like to—” and she almost says “see you destroy that Remorhaz again,” but thinks better of it and adds, lamely, “like to— to get back at that troll in the swamp for nearly killing me.” 

“If it was the same one over, I’d like to fight in the Victory Pit again. That was... nice,” Yasha finally says, “If not, I don’t know. Maybe I could come with you all when you fought that dragon— not the one you hid from, the other one.” 

“The one Fjord got us stuck fighting?” Nott asks. “I never want to do that one again.” 

“Can we not talk about dragons, _please,”_ Jester says. “I still think _Macaron_ or whatever her name was is totally going to come after us as soon as we forget to think about her. It’s really not a great thing to remember before bed, y’know?” 

“Sure,” Beau agrees. “Yasha, you gonna ask me something? I pick truth.” 

“Aw, is _anyone_ going with a dare?” Nott says. “Come on. _”_

“Jester said the dares come later, remember?” Yasha reminds her. “Okay. Beau— truth. Oh. What’s your favourite color?” 

“Blue,” Beau says automatically, over Nott’s immediate shout of _“Boring.”_ Shit. She really, really didn’t mean to let that slip, and she looks over at Jester again, but the implication seems to have gone unnoticed— and then she sees a grinning Jester holding up a bottle of bright blue nail polish and regrets ever opening her mouth. 

“Nope,” she says, and folds her arms in what she hopes is a defiant-looking way. “Nott, truth or dare,” she adds, trying to ignore the fact that Jester’s _pouting_ and doing the sad-eyes-thing and looking so disappointed— 

“Aw, fine,” Beau says, getting up to move over to where Jester is. “Just don’t use the sparkly one this time, that shit leaves glitter everywhere.” She makes a point of ignoring the way that the resulting smile from Jester makes her stomach flip in that stupid way it always does in moments like this. 

“Dare,” Nott says. “I’m not a coward.” 

“No, you’re not,” Beau agrees. “Dare you to go downstairs and order that alcoholic milkshake thing the barkeeper called a unicorn tornado or some shit like that. With extra _everything_ in it.” 

“Done!” she says, scrambles to her feet and out the door, laughing in a way that could be described as a cackle if it were just a little louder. 

There’s a moment of complete silence, then, broken only by the wind outside and the sound of tavern patrons getting loudly drunk downstairs, and the faint _swish_ of Jester’s brush as she puts the finishing touches on Beau's left hand. 

“Okay, switch hands!” she says, reaching for a different bottle. “This one’s _supposed_ to be peppermint scented, but it kind of just smells like soap and floor polish. It is a _really_ nice colour, though,” and Beau hadn’t even noticed before, but as soon as Jester mentions it she thinks that that shade of blue might be her new favourite— dark, nearly purple, almost exactly the same shade as Jester’s eyes, and, fuck, that’s a thought that isn’t going anywhere good. She tries to keep her hand still, and hopes her heart isn’t beating as loudly as it sounds in her ears. 

The silence is abruptly broken as Nott slams the door open again, having returned with her abomination of a drink in some unnatural shade of pink and yellow. There’s a horrific pile of sprinkles and confectionery on top, and she carefully sets it down on the floor before sitting down again herself. 

“This,” she says, “is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. I don’t know why they sell it.” 

— 

It takes a little while for the game to get back on track, after that— Nott refuses to finish her drink until everyone else tries it, saying that she “paid five silver for the fucking thing, it’s either this or you all pay me back.” Then Jester starts offering stale pastries as a way to get rid of the taste, and by the time they finally get it together for Jester to ask Yasha what the worst book she’s ever read is— “ _Tusk Love,”_ Beau interrupts before she can say anything, and Yasha nods in agreement at the sentiment it’s really late, but the thoughts of dragons and monsters have chased off any thought of sleep. 

“Truth,” Beau says, before Yasha can even ask.

“What’s your favourite memory of us? The whole group, I mean. Not just us four.” 

Oh. 

She doesn’t answer for a while, trying to think of a way to say “I think you guys are the best thing that ever happened to me,” without actually _saying_ that, because that’s so stupid and sappy Beau thinks she’d actually die if she said it out loud. 

“Remember when we were pirates? That was fucking amazing,” she says instead. “Apart from, y’know, the cult stuff, obviously. But everything else.” 

—

“Truth again,” Jester says. She’s lying on the bed, sprawled out like a starfish, her tail wrapping around one of the feet, and Nott grins in a way that Beau _really_ doesn’t like. 

“Okay. _Totally_ hypothetically, obviously—” and no good question _ever_ starts with that, “—if you had to pick anyone in this room, out of me or Beau or Yasha, who would you want to kiss?” 

_Fuck._

Jester sits up at that, all the quiet, sleepy slowness gone from her movements. “Um,” she says, very pointedly not looking at anyone. “I guess—” 

And she doesn’t finish her sentence, _but._ But she looks right at Beau, and their eyes meet, and Jester’s widen in that way they do when she’s just realised something really important, like she’s just solved the world’s greatest mystery and she’s going to crack the case wide open for _everyone_ to hear. The room is suddenly stifling, and if Beau thought her heartbeat was loud before now it’s like a fucking drum, like someone’s crashing cymbals in her chest and catching her lungs between them— 

“I gotta go,” Beau says, stumbles to her feet and rushes out of the room. 

The hallway is, thankfully, a lot cooler than the room was, which gives her a moment to breathe and _think_ , and also to realise that she can’t just do her usual thing of going to bed and pretending whatever it is isn’t happening until morning because everyone else is still in the room that she and Jester _share,_ god _damnit._

_Breathe._

_Do that stillness technique Dairon showed you and_ breathe. 

_You’re like a tree or a mountain or something, quiet and—_

“Beau?” 

From behind her, she hears Jester’s voice, feels her touching her arm, and turns around to see her best friend looking at her with nothing but concern written all over her face, and hates how the only thing she can think is _shit. She's so pretty, I don’t remember how to move._

“Don’t worry about it,” Beau says. “‘S just a stupid game, I don’t—” 

“I— I do really want to kiss you,” Jester says, and surely Beau can’t have heard that right, what the _hell,_ that stupid thing Nott brought upstairs must have been stronger than they all thought, but Jester _keeps going,_ “If you don’t, that’s fine, too, but— do you want to? 

“I— yeah,” Beau says, still half-thinking that she must be dreaming or something. “Jes, I— I really, really do, but—” and thank whatever gods are listening that she doesn’t end up finishing that sentence, because that’s when Jester leans up and puts her arms around Beau’s shoulders and pulls her down toward Jester. 

Everything about Jester is soft— her hair, her lips, her hands— and when they finally break apart for air Beau’s lip is bleeding from where one of Jester’s fangs cut her a little, and all they can do is stare at each other in the cool half-light of the hallway, and then the spell breaks and Jester smiles at her—

And Beau finally remembers how to breathe. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please don't forget to leave kudos or a comment :D


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